Yup, We're Dorks.

Some people celebrate their anniversary with a cruise. Or a trip to the beach. Or a cabin in the mountains. Yea, well me and Chris? That ain't our bag. Chris isn't the romantic type and I can't tan. So where do two pale nerds like us go for fun and excitement to celebrate our memorable one year anniversary?




...Washington D.C, baby!

WE. HAD. A. BLAST.

On Thursday we left around 9 because the house-sitters (thanks you guys!) were coming around lunchtime to take the dogs out so we couldn't leave too early or their poor bladders wouldn't have lasted and they can't be alone too long. The ride was PERFECT. It is basically a straight shot up 85 North until it turns into 95 North and BOOM you are there. I'm an AWFUL passenger because of my control issues so normally I have to pack an arsenal of xanax for long car rides but I didn't even need a single one! We had no problems switching shifts whenever we felt like it and we laughed so much the ride felt like 2 hours instead of 11. I tried to get a picture of each state's welcome sign but I failed. I did get Virginia's, though, which I love because that state just explodes with beautiful.




We crashed pretty early when we got to the hotel in Maryland (well, not THAT early... it WAS our anniversary, after all) and woke up feeling great even though it was 6:00am. Our tour was 9 hours long and started at 8:00am so we had to get ready and walk to the train station a block from the hotel and then ride it into DC. We got a little lost when we got to Union Station and me + Chris - directions = ARGUMENT. I am hot-tempered and he's always TOO calm so we end up barking about who is handling the situation better. Well, that lasted all of 2 minutes because I saw the capital building in the distance for the first time and squealed like a school girl.




Once we finally got to the bus, everything was smooth sailing. We started at the Capital and let me tell you, it is freakin' HUGE. You see it all the time in shows and movies but you don't really realize how big it is until you are RIGHT there. So big, in fact, that the statue of liberty can entirely fit inside of it and still have 30 feet left until the top? INSANE.




Then we walked across the street to the botanical gardens. Being the tourists that we are, we had no idea that everything in Washington D.C. is paid for by tax dollars so there is no charge for ANYTHING. We asked how much it cost to walk around and the girl goes "Nothing. You've technically already paid for it with your taxes!". Sweet! Well once we got inside I started panicking because I realized there might be butterflies in there. I've never been to a garden like that before and everyone has always told me about butterfly houses...

...Oh, hold on, you didn't know? I'm TERRIFIED of butterflies. Like, if I see one coming at me, I run and flail my arms around. And yes, I know, they don't bite. That's what EVERYONE says to me, but it isn't that. It's their wings. Their freakishly colorful unnaturally flapping wings. I shutter at the sight of them. I know... I'm a freak. Moving on...

After a quick reassurance that there were no winged beasts in the greenhouses, I was good to go. It was beautiful in there! And so very interesting to see. (That picture of Chris makes him look like he's radioactive but it's good of me so whatever!)







When the bus came back to get us, we headed for the Smithsonian Air and Space museum. We had some lunch and got to see all the cool space shuttles and World War II bomber planes and such. It was really neat to see them up close. Chris loved it.







Then it was time for the Washington Monument and the newly constructed veteran's memorial. Again, gorgeous. The monument is phenomenal and the veteran's memorial makes you really appreciate what our tax dollars do to make our country beautiful. So very classy. We also saw the Lincoln Memorial but didn't have time to get close. It, too, is huge. All I kept thinking was Jenny in Forrest Gump running towards Forrest in the water and how much smaller it looks on television!





And all that was just HALF of our whole day! If you aren't too overloaded on geek-dom, I'll be filling in the rest of the day in another entry to come. And, as always, there is much more fun (and I use the word fun very loosely) things going on in my life I'll be keeping track of soon. Stick around at your own risk!

"Short Is The Joy That Guilty Pleasure Brings"

"Short is the joy that guilty pleasure brings" is a quote from Euripides, a Greek dramatist. Well, I don't know what kind of guilty pleasures they had back in the day that made him think the joy in them is short because my guilty pleasures? My guilty pleasures are infinitely joyful. Here's my Top 5 Guilty Pleasures:



1. Twilight.
Yes, I admit it. But it's a guilty pleasure for a reason because I hate to admit it. I was a British Literature major, people, and Stephanie Meyer ain't no Thomas Hardy. All that teen angst and cheesy love lines? I can't even tell you how hard I threw "Breaking Dawn" across the room after that bullshit "sex scene" I had been waiting THREE whole books to read. Now, with all that said, let me tell you what I do love about Twilight that keeps me dusting off my collection from time to time: two words. LOVE. TRIANGLE. I am still a girl, after all, and what girl doesn't love two guys going after one woman? Plus, the whole werewolf thing and Taylor Lautner's rocking body? Um, yes please.




2. Chips.
Holyfreakincrap I love chips. Plain chips with french onion dip. Nachos with the works. Any and every brand of Doritos, Fritos, Pringles... and don't even get me goin' on those amazing bites of happiness that is the Cape Cod chip. I would stab a bitch for the last bag of Cape Cod salt & vinegar chips. I guess its the same way most girls love chocolate... but much more scary.




3. Ke$ha.
God I love to hate and hate to love that bitch. She's so skanky acting and phony to me but every single one of her mind-numbingly untalented songs makes me want to roll the windows down in my car, sing at the top of my lungs, and imagine I'm back in high school trying to score beer and crash parties. Oh, the shame.




4. Jersey Shore.
Could there be anything worse on television right now? That show is why every other country in the world hates us. If the Taliban got a hold of even one episode, they'd officially drop a bomb on us for being so stupid. All they do is get drunk, fight, tan, and have sloppy sex with people in hot tubs! But oh my gah, Ronnie is a freakin' player and Sammy is so stupid for taking him back time and time again and Snooki is 4'9" of awesome ridiculousness and JWoww's boobs keep me mesmerized every damn episode. Ugh, I hate myself.




5. Beer and online gaming.
It pretty much speaks for itself. My idea of a rockin' Friday night is a PBR and long, uninterrupted hours of Halo 3, Red Dead Redemption... the list goes on. And yes, I wear my headset and scream at 15 year olds. I'm only human.





So now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hang my head in shame after admitting all these brutally honest tidbits of information about me. What are some of your guilty pleasures?

Where It All Began...

Chris and I met in our high school art class. I was the outspoken kid that always disrupted the class and he was the shy, sensitive type. He wore fishnet arm sleeves and chains and I wore jeans and t-shirts. He had long blond hair that was always just long enough to pull behind his ear but never long enough to stay there. He tried to get my attention so much and I just didn't see him that way. He was just the guy next to me in art class that could hear my shenanigans the loudest. Apparently he had a friend of mine ask me what I thought of him. I told her I liked him but didn't like his hair. I don't know if we ever would have dated in high school had I known he had a crush on me. Later on, when I asked him when he started having a crush on me, he told me it was the first time he heard me speak. I asked him what I had said. Apparently it went like this:

I sat down on the first day of art class in a huff.
"My grandma called my boobs "ta-ta's" this morning! Hi, I'm Amanda."

...and that's when he knew.

After that class, we lost touch. I didn't see him again until the summer of 2004. If it wasn't for that same friend I told you about who had asked me if I was interested in him back in high school, I never would have recognized him. I had come to see her at her job and he was behind the counter. I had just broken up with my first real boyfriend and was in the "date everyone that breathes" phase of my life.

I went up to the counter with some movies to be rung up and this very shy guy who never even looked me directly in the eyes took care of me. He was smiling nervously which if you know me at all, you know I love that. People joke that I'm a sucker for nerds but it isn't that, it's that awkwardness about them that makes me want to eat them up. This guy had that AND he was sexy. I took my movies and met back up with the friend I was there to visit. I asked her who the cute blond with the arm band was. She laughed and goes "Chris Rawlins! Don't you remember him? From our art class?"

I was in shock. He had totally hunked out on me! His hair was cut short (ironically he told me he had just finally done it the day before) and he looked really good to me in that polo work shirt as opposed to the band shirts and goth attire I always remembered him in. I asked her if he was dating anyone and she told me he had just broken up with a long-time girlfriend. All the stars were in place... for a little while.

After a whirlwind of on-and-off dating, he just couldn't get the commitment out of me that he so desperately wanted. He loved me more than I could love him at the time. I look back on that so sadly when he reminds me that I was the first person he ever loved and that I broke his heart. His last attempt was over dinner. He told me that there was a girl at his work that liked him and that he was going to pursue it if I wasn't ready to be with him 100%. After all his previously failed attempts to tie me down, he was laying down the gauntlet.

I said no.

He was devastated.

It was the biggest mistake of my life.

A few weeks later, I would come to my senses. But it was too late. He had accidently gotten that "interested" girl he had told me about pregnant. And he was going to do the right thing and marry her. Now it was my turn to be devestated.

For 2 years after that I tried to fill the void. I searched for a guy that loved me like Chris did. I searched for someone to care about me the way he had wanted to and to want nothing from me but my whole heart. It's funny, when you go looking for those things, you usually find the opposite. At least for me I did. I ended up being with guys who I was basically with to subconciously punish myself for breaking Chris' heart. I knew he didn't love the girl he had to marry. I took full blame for him having even gotten her pregnant. If I would have just known that night at dinner that he was the one I wanted, too, then none of it would have happened. I hated myself... and it showed. Where my heart was concerned, it was the worst 2 years of my life.

Now I don't know if I believe in fate or destiny or if it's all just dumb luck, but how we got back together might be the reason the latter seems more likely. You know how when you open your first facebook account and it asks you if you want to find friends based on the email addresses you have in your address book? Well, in November of 2007, he was opening his first facebook account. He checked that little box without even thinking. He didn't realize at all that my email address was included in that search. On my end, I got a friend request. I hadn't seen or heard from him in so long at that point, but I didn't care. I was so happy to be hearing from him. Later, he admitted that he had no idea it had happened. I never in a million years would have talked to him if I had thought the friend request was unintentional. But that's where the fate part comes in, right?

We started talking about regular things, catching up and where we were working and such. It turned out he was only one exit away from where I was working. (More fate?) We decided to meet for lunch. On the day of our lunch, his car was in the shop and so I picked him up. I was so nervous. It had been so long and I didn't have any idea what we would still have in common or what he even looked like now. I had parked at the wrong entrance so he had to walk through the parking lot to get to me. I watched him walking towards me and my first thought was "Oh my god, I remember that walk". Chris has a very distinct walk. He calls it a girly walk, but I love it. All the memories of loving it came flooding back. During our lunch, even more came flooding back.

The only thing that had changed was his eyes. They were more sad and exhausted than ever before. And for good reason. He was going through the process of wanting a divorce. She was fighting it tooth and nail because no matter how much they didn't love eachother, her church would excommunicate her for divorcing. We talked for so long that my boss actually had to call and ask if I was coming back to work. He asked if I could give him a ride after work so that we could finish our conversation. I had to run some errands, but told him he could tag along if he wanted. I felt so sorry for him. All the guilt I always felt for not being who he wanted me to be was even worse when I realized how miserable his life was. Being a shoulder for him to lean on during his divorce was the least I could do. All I wanted was for him to know he had a friend in me. It honestly never even crossed my mind that he could still be in love with me after all this time.

Well, he was. It was almost 11pm and I was still up working on our company Christmas cards that I had taken home to finish for the next day. My phone rang and it was Chris. He was beyond upset. He asked if he could come over and talk. We stayed up all night and did just that. I won't describe to you all the wonderful and amazing things that happened after that because those are just for me and Chris. But from then on, we have been inseperable.

Chris and I have been through more in the last 3 years together than most couples experience in a lifetime. Divorce, a child, death, insane family members, and the list goes on and on. There has only ever been one thing that has always been guaranteed in our life together and that is that all we want is eachother. Good, bad, happy, miserable... all we know for sure is that nothing will ever make us not want to be partners through it all. Nothing in our relationship has been traditional or even normal, but our love only gets stronger with each crazy undertaking. We can survive anything and weather any storm. He is my best friend and I will love him until I can't breathe anymore and then I'll love him after that.

Yesterday was our 1 year wedding anniversary. We were laying in bed the other night and I asked him how he is so sure that we are still going to be together through all the ups and downs. He said...

"Well, 'cause I got 99 problems but my bitch ain't one."

...yup, that about sums it up.

A "Controlled" Environment

I'm pretty sure my husband has created a monster. Oh yes, I blame him. When I lived alone in my own apartment with only a responsibility to myself, I didn't care about anything. Dirty dishes? I'll get to them. Make the bed? Never. Clothes on the floor? Fuck 'em. Don't get me wrong, I'd clean if company was coming so to not look like an animal. Otherwise, who. freakin. cares.

But now? Well, now I've gone and caught the domestication virus. You get it from monogamy, ladies. There is no known cure.

Before I was married, I could sometimes wake up in the middle of my living room with rug burn on my face after a night of partying. Now the only thought process I have about my floor is how soon we can get our carpets shampooed. In my old apartment, I couldn't even tell you what the floors in my kitchen looked like. In my home now, I can tell you where every crack and crevice is located and the lot number for my dream tile in our new house. Instead of pondering where my next margarita is coming from, I ponder where the hell this dust keeps coming from.




I realize this should all be a good thing, but if you ask me (and sadly, my husband), this need for clean has turned me into a monster rather than just a great housekeeper. Why? Well, for starters, it makes me scream and yell and go bat shit bonkers... and normally on Chris. It makes me judge the hell out of myself when I don't mop. It makes me contemplate homicide when Chris fails to understand the importance of a dirty dish in the dishwasher rather than the sink and don't even get me started on his overall "I'll get to it later" attitude. I swear our divorce papers will read "failure to maintain cleanliness"... either that or his death certificate will. I kid, of course. In all honesty, though, why does Bitch-bot 2k10 get activated every time my home feels out of control?

I wish I could just relax. Or as Chris tells me, "chill the fuck out". My secret wish is that I could get a handle on the housework 100% like a real circa 1956 wife. I would love the energy and motivation to clean everything myself and have complete control of house chores. Chris wouldn't have to lift a finger and we'd both live in harmony. It would solve everything. The dirt and the bitching would all be over.

...or maybe I should make a new secret wish. Like, a maid.

I Stalk Your Baby...

That's right. I'm obsessed with mom blogs. I read literally dozens of them. My husband thinks I'm a looney tune because of it. I don't care. I LOVE YOUR BABIES! I also love seeing how different moms are in the way they do things. Overall, I'm fascinated by moms in general because they have children and, well, I don't. The idea that they change your life is so cool to me. It's like you are in on a secret that I don't know about because I haven't experienced it.

Why do I not have children of my own, you say? I'm glad you asked...

Chris and I don't want children yet. I wish I could spin that without sounding like a bad person, but it's the truth. We live the life of a couple without children. We like to sleep until noon, walk around naked (well that's mostly me), go to parties, stay out all night, take day trips at a moments notice, drink beer and play video games until all hours (again, mostly me) and, well, after all that there's no time left for a baby. Don't get me wrong, we like kids. I LOVE children and Chris is the most patient and loving person I know so I can very easily see kids in our future. Just not our immediate future. Or maybe not even at all. Who knows? Not me. And I'm cool with that and so is Chris.

Now, being the planner that I am, I may not exactly know when and if I'll start a family, but you better believe I have the details all stitched up for when and if I do. While you guys were out actually having babies, I was still on the fence and wondering why my maternal clock wasn't going off. So, I began absorbing myself in everything I could (including your blogs!) to get an idea of all the options you have as a parent. Basically I've done all the leg work I can, just without first hand knowledge. I finally compiled a list of all the things I want to do and be as a parent. In case you're interested, of course.

Please feel free to mock me all you want. I know I'm going to get at least one or two people say "Oh you think that NOW but just wait!" after reading this list but c'mon, a girl can dream, right? And hey, moms with blogs that I WORSHIP on a daily basis, please don't think I judge your parenting methods if they differ from my thoughts on something. Every single one of you deserve a medal for all the wonderful choices you make, whatever they may be, and I never once have thought negatively about any parent's choices. That is your kid, you have every right to do whatever the hell you want and don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise!


1. Music.


Chris was in bands and plays bass and guitar (very well I might add!). I am a lover of all music from hip hop to classical piano and even gospel music. I like to crank it up loud and dance stupid dances in my living room. Music is air. There will be no censoring music in my house. I want to encourage them to learn everything from playing an instrument to knowing every lyric on Eminem's Encore album. Well, maybe not track 1... but you get the idea.

2. Food.


I know it is very trendy to eat organically right now, but it actually is very important. Chris and I only buy organic groceries, but we aren't Nazis about it. I will try my best to stick with it and make it a priority as a parent, but you better believe I'll slap Kraft Mac & Cheese in front of them just as quickly if I don't feel like cooking.

3. Breastfeeding.



No. Way. I tried, ladies, I really did. I researched and researched and worked so hard to be open-minded about this but I just cannot do it. Don't worry, I will pump. I know how important it is for a baby to have breast milk for at least 6 months. But I'm sorry, breasts are for admiring. Breasts are for sex and porn and fun. There's nothing natural to me about a baby on your tit. I know that's so ass-backwards from how I should be thinking but N-O. Oddly enough my mom thinks the same thing. None of her four kids has ever even had breast milk. Mine will have it, but not straight from the source. Creepsville.

4. Cursing.


Another one you are probably going to hate me for. I love to curse. It gets my point across, it is part of my personality, and I don't believe in censorship. There is, of course, a time and place. It's all about respect. I know when to be proper and act like a lady and I would never curse AT anyone (unless it was called for). I also am not allowed to curse in front of Chris' son because his mother doesn't allow it and I respect that 100%. I just refuse to be someone I'm not around my own kids. I don't mean I'm going to encourage my 18 month old to say bad words. I just mean that I'm not going to NOT say bad words. I don't think they're going to need therapy if they hear mommy laugh and call daddy a shithead for leaving a wet towel on the bed for the 87th time. You call me a bad name? You get popped. You come home from school and say a bad word to describe how some kid was acting that day? Go for it. A spade is a spade and a bitch is a bitch. Just say the damn word.

5. Sexuality.


In my house, the only thing that is not tolerated is intolerance. If my child is gay, you better believe his mom and dad has got their back no matter what. I also don't believe in same-sex toys. My brother played with dolls and I played with hot wheels. There's no need to force an identity on a child just because of their gender. When I was a nanny, the mom told me how all of the toys were unisex so that her daughter wouldn't grow up thinking that she was wrong for liking something that other girls don't or vice versa. When she gets old enough to choose her own toys, there won't be any limitations. I like that.

6. Circumcision.


It just looks better. Sue me.

7. "The Talk"


I'm pretty sure from my views on censorship that you know where I'm going with this. There was one rule in my house: If you're old enough to ask, you're old enough to know. I knew everything there was to know and have always had a mother who will literally tell me anything I need to ask. And you know what? I didn't even kiss a guy til I was 17. You know why? 'Cause while all the parents of my girlfriends' in middle and high school weren't telling their kids about sex, they were racing to find out about it first hand. Me? I already knew and didn't need to. I can honestly proudly say that I've always worn protection and (obviously) never got unintentionally pregnant. I knew the facts, buddy.



Can you think of anything else important that I missed? Maybe want to know my thoughts on another particular parenting trait from a non-parent such as myself? Feel free to ask. I'm an open book. And keep those blogs going, you hot mamas. I love your lives and I'm proud of each and every one of you for everything that you are.

If The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions...

I bet every single one of you wishes they could talk shit about somebody else, openly and so that they know it came directly from you.

That's right, I said it. I fully expect people who aren't smart enough to form their own opinions to be offended by mine. It's human nature. Some of us stand behind it and others stand just underneath so that others don't get the wrong idea. Don't worry, that doesn't make you a bad person. It's taken me years but I finally learned to realize that how we present ourselves to the world is written more in stone than we think. Social graces and outspoken behavior don't always go hand in hand. But let's face it, no matter what type of man or woman we choose to present ourselves as, we all want to talk major shit about the people around us. If you think I'm exaggerating, you're a damn liar. I refuse to sugar-coat this issue. If you can't think of a single person you want to talk shit about, you're the one everyone else is talking shit about the most.

I started this entry out very negatively for a reason. I want you all to be affected by the fact that we are all, as human beings, hiding who we really are. Quite frankly, it's called for. God teaches those who follow him that they are all sinners. Buddhists do not deny their followers the human nature that brings us desire to take the wrong path. Atheists believe that there isn't anything at all except our own natural intellect to keep us from doing anything wrong so therefore the stakes are higher. No matter what any of us as a human believes, the common denominator will always be: we. aren't. perfect.

You know what else is the common denominator, though? You know what I think makes all of us the same as each other? It's actually quite simple if you think about it. What do we all have in common? Well we all, every single one of us, strive for perfection. We either want Jesus to be proud of everything we do or we want the whole world to see how hard we worked and what our inspiration was to do so. We all want someone, something, ANYTHING, to take account of our existence and be proud.

That's why the ol' saying "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" is absolutely irrelevant because the road to heaven, in my opinion, is paved with them, too. You think the terrorist that crashed a plane into our World Trade Center didn't do it for the good intention of his nation from which he believed was being oppressed by the liberalism of the U.S.? You think someone as narrow-minded as a bigot isn't making fun of you because of what they believe is the betterment of their own race's superiority? You think good and just Christians aren't making sure they refuse to acknowledge the good behavior of an atheist or the choices of a homosexual out of fear that they will be shunned for their support of someone who denies Christ? It's happening everyday, every minute, and every second. What isn't happening, however, is people acknowledging that it's okay.

It's okay to want to talk shit about people, like I said. Hell, who wasn't cursing the Middle East on 9/11 when hardly anyone at that point even knew the difference between Iraq and Iran? Who hasn't judged a Christian for putting their hands together in prayer during a crisis instead of putting their hands to use? Who hasn't thought someone who has denied Christ as their lord and savior is lost and "sad"? No matter how humble and nice we are about our opinions of those who oppose our beliefs, we are quicker to cancel them out rather than commend them.

I don't want you to think I would ever support terrorists' behavior or that I believe that the actions of any radical are just, especially if people are hurt in the process. All I want to point out is the common denominator which I think everyone should be reminded of from time to time. That denominator is that we are all, every one of us, wanting to do what is right. Our backgrounds, experience, and beliefs may be completely different than any other individual's in the world, but what we all fundamentally want is the same thing: to live, breath, fight, and die for the same cause: good intention.

...and if the road to hell is really paved with good intentions, like they say, then by God I'll be right there taking full credit for every single brick.

Let's Face It, Girls...

I just spent the last hour and a half watching make-up tutorials on YouTube.com. I feel fat and ugly today, as most women randomly experience from time to time. I wanted to cheer myself up with some expert tips so that I look like the much more beautifully made up women I'm comparing myself to. However, no matter how hard I run on the treadmill or make healthy food choices or put on some high heels, we all know what really makes us feel the most beautiful...

...looking better than the competition.



Those ninety dollar shoes and that perfectly styled hair is not for the benefit of men. A poll done in 2010 found that 46% of all men thought their women were sexiest with little or no make-up at all. But wearing little or no make-up wouldn't make you feel sexy no matter how often you are reassured otherwise, right? Because let's face it girls, all it will take is one female to walk by you looking more made up in comparison and your self-esteem takes a nose dive. We're putting on our make-up and high heels for each other, ladies... and like they always say: a little healthy competition never hurt anyone.

I'm going to take a moment and own up to a little secret of mine. It's something that of course only means I'm human, but kind of a bitch nonetheless. If you know me, I'm sure you'll admit that I'm normally a laid back and non-judgemental gal, so if this is my only fault, I'm doing pretty good.

I can run three miles on the treadmill, make healthy choices all day, put on sexy lingerie and a beautiful dress, thank my husband when he tells me how good I look and be whistled at by a stranger but nothing, nothing, makes me feel sexier than this one, simple thought:

I'm overwhelmingly, hands down, no contest sexier than my husband's ex.

I know, I know. I'm almost ashamed to admit it and yes, I'm fully aware how petty that statement was. But well, hell, it's true and I'm not going to deny what it does for my self-esteem as a woman. Deep down, doesn't every girl want to know their men finally got it right when they got you?

Don't get me wrong, I feel good knowing that I'm everything my husband wants out of a woman and that I love him enough to be everything he needs more than anyone ever has. I'm not as shallow as to believe that looks even scratch the surface of the foundation that is our love. ...but superficially? Yes, it feels pretty damn good to play the comparison game.

It's important for a woman (regardless of how bitchy it may seem) to feel as though she looks better than the women around her. It's not okay, however, to voice it and be immature and classless about it in a way that hurts anyone's feelings. I mentioned my secret knowing fully well that she doesn't read my blog or even knows it existed because despite my feelings towards her as a human being, she's still a human being somewhere in there and I would never intentionally want her to be hurt by that comment. But, again, it is important for a woman to be motivated to feel good about themselves, regardless if that motivation comes from a not-so-nice kind of place. Confidence is critical to a woman's well-being, there's no denying it. Make sure you feel good about yourself on the inside first, but don't hesitate to go that extra mile to want to look better on the outside than everyone else. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

Accepting Finite Disappointment

So it's been longer than I would normally want to wait between blog entries, but I can honestly say I tried. I've made a commitment to not allow this blog to just be a diary of memories but a collection of positive affirmations to remind me that frustration and hate, even while being vented, is negative. So for what it's worth, I'm trying a new approach instead of my quickdraw response to fly off the handle when I'm angry or stressed. I gave myself a few days to fight the urge to rant and rave. To my amazement, I found my center. Now, on to more positive things.

I have finally found the source of my lack of motivation. I'm normally a very good housekeeper but sometimes no matter how spotless and front page of "Better Homes"-worthy my home is, it can somehow be a disaster within 24 hours. It's always been a mystery to me how this is possible and even more so how I manage to give up so easily when it does. Same goes for homework. Some days I am a caffeine-fueled workaholic who studies parts of textbooks that I'll never even be tested on. Others, I can't be bothered to even get off the couch from an impromptu, 8 hour long West Wing marathon.

This may not be news to a lot of people, but it was a miraculous discovery to me when I realized it was success that motivates me. Not the possibility of it, however, but the already gained kind. If I make a 100 on a pop quiz somehow my ability to take notes, study for a test, and think of nothing else but the subject at hand excels me to academic excellence. I miss so much as one question on a previously well-prepared for exam and I martyr myself to failure. I'm completely driven by my own positive outlook. Disappointment, which normally fuels motivation, is my achilles heel.

My all-time favorite Baptist once said "We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope". I don't know why I always forget that. Disappointment is always temporary and so far it has never meant the end of the world. Hard work, however, has always shown a 100% success rate. How do I keep giving up, even if it is momentarily, with such great odds like that? I've seen proof that I am capable of greatness and hope can be infinite if I let it be.

So now with my homework done, a clean house, and this newly completed entry in my blog, all the things on my to-do list for the day are happily checked off. With the rest of the evening at my disposal, I can breathe a sigh of relief while focusing on the lighter yet equally satisfying side of life...

...which at the moment happens to be my two stupid dogs growling ferociously at the children playing three stories below who are, according to them, posing a dangerous threat to our little castle.